


Gone are the days

by imthetitanic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cutting, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Episode: s03e10 Dream a Little Dream, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I promise, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, No Wincest, Not Beta Read, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Dean, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Unless you see it, but it wasn't on purpose, in which case I guess there is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthetitanic/pseuds/imthetitanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the experience with the African Dream Root, Dean doesn't see any more of a point to living. Actually, he sees less of one.</p><p>And I'm bad at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS: Suicide attempt, mentions of self-harm but no actual descriptions of it.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Dean raised a beer to his lips as Sam worked on his car. His dream would not stop playing in his head. That vision of himself as a demon—a demon!—would not go away. Deep down, he knew his dream-self was right. He was nothing. Sam...Sammy was the only thing holding him together.

But Sam could keep going without him. He would have to soon. But Sam didn’t need him, and Dean knew it. Sam could move on. Live a life without his crap-heap of a big brother. Dean knew he didn’t deserve all the crap that had been dumped on him, that he didn’t deserve to go to Hell.

But whatever. It was going to happen. Why not now? Bobby could take care of Sammy just fine. Sammy didn’t need him, so why stay?

............................................................................................................................................................

“Dean.” Dean looked up and saw Sam’s concerned eyes. “You all right, man?”

“Yeah, I’m cool.” He got up off the motel bed, setting the knife he had been running his thumb across gingerly on the table. “Food?”

“Sure. I’ll grab us some burgers. Give me the keys.” Sam was leaving. Dean tossed him the keys. He didn’t need them. 

He scratched at his arm, where scars ran up and down across the skin. Most were from hunts, but some—some weren’t. “Get a lot.”

Sam chuckled. “I’ll get enough. Get some rest. You look exhausted.” He looked at Dean hard. 

Dean carefully kept a waver from his voice. “Yeah. I’m pretty damn tired, Sammy.” 

Worry grew in Sam’s eyes, but he didn’t open his mouth to voice it. “Then sleep a little. I’ll wake you up when I get back.”

_No you won’t._ Dean thought as Sam left. “Let’s get to it.” He spoke out loud, but wasn’t sure why. He watched out the window until Sam reached the Impala, then grabbed his handgun from under his pillow. 

As he locked the bathroom door behind himself and stepped, fully clothed, into the shower, he heard the motel door open. “Shit.” He slammed the shower door shut. 

He heard a sharp knocking on the door. “Dean? Do you have my wallet? Can’t find it.” 

Dean made no response. Why should he? He knelt in the water, the gun pressed against his forehead. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was more urgent now. He banged on the door. “Dean!”

“Bye, Sammy,” Dean whispered. 

“DEAN!” The door crashed open, and has the shower door followed suit, Dean squeezed the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what Sam was doing while Dean was in the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffie, guys. But don't worry!

Sam shut the car door and started back toward the motel room. He thought he had his wallet, but it turned out he really didn’t. 

He opened the motel room door and stepped inside, doing a quick check to make sure no one had entered who wasn’t supposed to be there. Dean wasn’t in sight, which was odd, but probably he was in the bathroom. Sam knocked on the door. “Dean?” No answer. “Can’t find my wallet, do you have it?” Still no answer.

Sam recalled Dean’s “pretty damn tired” comment, and cold fear grew in him. _He wouldn’t. Would he?_ “Dean?” He banged on the door, then ran to check under Dean’s pillow. The gun wasn’t there. “Dean!” He leapt back to the door.

Adrenaline surged through his body and he kicked the door open. “DEAN!” Sam threw open the shower door and froze in shock at the sight meeting his eyes. Dean’s fingers tightened around the trigger, and Sam threw himself at his brother. A single shot ran out and blood splattered against the wall.

“Dean? Dean!” Tears rushed unbidden down Sam’s cheeks. He dragged his bleeding brother from the small shower cubicle and laid him on the cold bathroom floor. Thank God Sam had thrown off his aim. The head wound may have been gushing blood, but at least it wasn’t gushing brain matter as well.

Sam flipped open his cell phone and dialed 911. He ralayed to the dispatcher what had happened as briefly as he could, then hung up and called Bobby.

“Sam.” Bobby’s familiar voice sent Sam into a fresh round of tears.

“Bobby, Dean’s hurt.” _No, Dean shot himself. Because of you._

“Well what happened, boy?” 

“He shot himself. Bobby, he shot himself.” _Why? What did I miss?_

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” 

Sam told him and hung up. He pressed on Dean’s head wound, trying to slow the bleeding. Keeping his left hand pressing Dean’s scalp, he reached up and yanked a towel off the rack. He pressed that to Dean’s head until the ambulance arrived in a blur of sirens and people in uniforms. Sam wanted to ride with them in the ambulance, but knew Dean would never forgive him if he left the Impala behind at the motel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, he isn't dead!! Yet...
> 
> I love you guys! Comments are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up in the hospital and isn't totally sure what he's more upset about...waking up or being in a hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: referencing his suicide attempt.
> 
> I'm always open to changing tags or ratings or something if someone needs me to. Also...happy holidays!

Dean woke to bright lights, stuffy heat, and itchy blankets. “No, no no,” he muttered under his breath. The hospital. Sammy had stuck him in the hospital.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice reached his ears, and Dean turned his head. “You’re awake.”

Was it Dean, or was there a touch of coldness in Sam’s voice? “Yeah.” He deserved it. Sam probably hated him for what he had done. “A hospital? Really? Come on Sammy, I’m not about to die.” Dean forced a chuckle and a few tears welled in his eyes. “Is this really necessary?”

“Damn right it is, Dean.” Heat had crept into Sam’s voice. Anger. “What the hell were you thinking? That I’d just move on? Get over the fact that my brother sent himself to Hell early? It’s bad enough you’re going at all!” Sam got up and left, but not before Dean could see a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Sammy?” Dean called out. Did he not get a chance to defend himself?

A petite brunette walked in. “Good, Dean, you’re awake. Time to take a couple pills.”

“What are they?” No way in hell was he taking something that would knock him out. Not when he still needed to talk to Sam.

“Just some painkillers.” Dean opened his mouth to protest that he couldn’t feel any pain, but then he noticed the ache in his head. As if it were responding to the attention, it grew into a searing arc of agony.

He took the painkillers. “Where’s—”

Before he could finish the question (where’s Sam), Bobby walked in. “Ya had us worried, Dean. That gash in your head near enough killed ya. Lucky Sam walked in when he did. Coulda been a helluva lot worse.”

“Better.” Dean tried to bite the word back, but it slipped through his teeth. 

The nurse left the room as Bobby stared Dean down. “You don’t mean that.”

“No, you’re right. There’s some miraculous way to save me.” There were those damn tears again. “Dammit, Bobby, I’m screwed and you know it. I’d rather go on my own terms than get ripped apart.” He wiped his eyes angrily.

“We’ll find away. This—this is never the way.” Bobby’s voice cracked. “Family don’t leave each other like that.”

Dean found himself raising his voice. “It’s just giving Sam false hope. You see it, I see it. Sam’s the one with this fool hope that I’ll somehow survive.”

“You will.” Sam had entered the room. “No matter what it takes, I will save you. And right now, if it means sticking your ass in the psych ward, so be it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that Major Character Death tag is looming over my head. I'm still not sure if I should remove it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam blames himself for Dean's suicide attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGERS: self harm, references to a suicide attempt, self blame, self hate
> 
> I'd like to apologize in advance for this chapter...

"You wouldn't do that." The incredulity in Dean's voice was no surprise to Sam. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't even consider that as an option.

"A suicide attempt, Dean?" Sam regretted the harshness in his voice as soon as he spoke, but he continued speaking. "It's very nearly out of my hands. They are supposed to keep you under observation." Sam hoped the slight waver he heard in his voice was unnoticeable enough to hide how close to tears he was.

Dean's green eyes widened, and Sam could see the panic in them. Dean thought he was good at playing the game of hiding emotions, bu Sam had learned to read them. _Then why couldn't I see he was going to kill himself?_

"Sammy, I can't stay here."

"Why?" Why couldn't Dean try to recover for a little bit? Not long, just until he wasn't depressed and suicidal anymore.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Bobby cut him off. "We'll get ya out. I'm going for food. Hospital eatin' is crap." With that he left the room.

Sam nodded but didn't say a word. This was all his fault. If Dean hadn't sold his soul to bring him back, he'd consider the same escape. But God damn it, he couldn't waste his brother's soul that way.

"I'll be back, Dean. Bathroom." Sam turned on his heel and practically ran from the room. He made his way through the maze of hospital corridors to the restroom. He looked himself in a stall and pulled his pocket knife from his jacket pocket. As he turned it over and over in his shaking fingers, he allowed tears to fall down his face. He could no more cry in front of Dean than in front of his father, especially after something like this.

Sam flicked the knife open and pulled off his shirt. No need to get blood on it and panic anyone. Faded scars rested on his arms and torso. Most of them were newer and mundane--bullets, claws, teeth—but several were from his knife. Thoswe had been triggered by his father or, most recently, Jess's death. He hadn't taken the knife to himself in ages. 

But he should have known Dean was depressed enough to do this. He should have realized earlier. If Dean had died, it would have been Sam's fault. If he had just killed Jake, Sam wouldn't have died. Dean wouldn't have sold his soul to that crossroads demon bitch. Dean wouldn't be going to Hell, and he wouldn't have attempted suicide. Sam may have misdirected the bullet, but Dean had pulled the damn trigger.

And with that thought, Sam flicked open his knife and bit through skin with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the chapters have been short so far because I like to alter my point of view between chapters. I believe next chapter will be longer and contain both viewpoints.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up to find Sam gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter this time! It does switch perspectives to Sam at the end.
> 
> TRIGGERS: Self hate, references to self harm...and a description on self harm. Bigger trigger warning on this chapter than many of the others.
> 
> I'm so sorry for this chapter.

Dean woke with a start and glanced at the clock. He had been asleep for two hours. Better than nothing, especially in a hospital. But it was too bad the sleep was tainted by the nightmare again. He had thought it was caused by the African Dream Root, but even without the root, he dreamed about it.

_And this is what you're gonna become!_

Dean shook his head to clear it and noticed Sam wasn't there, but Bobby was, burger in hand. Dean never thought the smell of a burger could make him nauseous, but this one did. If Sam had just gone to get burgers...if he hadn't forgotten his money, the bullet would have gone exactly where it was meant to.

"Where's Sam?" He had said he was going to the bathroom, but perhaps he had left. Left his brother at the hospital without a word. If that was the case, Dean knew he deserved it.

"Don't know. The boy barely left your side when you were unconscious. Now he's off God-knows-where and his food's going cold." Bobby chuckled and took another bite.

But Dean didn't feel like laughing. Sam was gone forever, he just knew it.

The petite brunette nurse burst into the room. "Mr. Singer, you need to come with me."

Dean asked, "What happened?" The nurse's silence seemed to him a confirmation of his fear that Sammy had gotten himself hurt somehow. Bobby stood and followed her out the door, leaving Dean alone and worried. 

He could hear furtive whispering outside the door but couldn't make any of it out. He considered pulling out his IV and going to the door to listen before he heard (loud and clear) "The damn idjit!" and footsteps running away. Feeling utterly pathetic, Dean pressed the nurse call button.

The nurse that scurried in was blonde and short. "What do you need?"

"What happened? The other nurse came in and had"—Dean thought about the relation Bobby was supposed to have to him—"my father go with her."

"I'm not sure why she needed him,," was the swift reply, but Dean knew she was lying.

"Dammit, I'm serious. What the hell happened?"

The nurse swayed back a bit as though Dean's were a physical blow. "Your father can tell you when he gets back." With that, the nurse left the room,

Dean lay back on the bed, sighing. None of this sounded good, none at all. And he was certain it was something to do with Sam. Worry gnawed at his stomach.

He sat up and moved to get out of bed once more, but a carefully expressionless Bobby walked in when Dean managed to get both legs off the bed.

"Get back in bed." Bobby's voice was stern. "I've got something to tell ya, and you ain't gonna like it."

Dean obeyed. Had Sam left for good? Taken the car and run as far from his big brother as he possibly could? Dean didn't think he'd be able to take that blow. He raised his eyebrows in question.

What came out of Bobby's mouth, though, was not what Dean was expecting. "They found him on the floor of the bathroom. Bleeding."

"Sammy's hurt? We have to hunt what did it, Bobby. That sonuvabitch won't last long. Was it a spirit? Demon?" Dean trailed off into silence when he registered Bobby's eyes.

They had sorrow, not anger, in them. "Sam was unconscious when they found him. He had lost a hell of a lot of blood." Bobby shook his head. "They got him patched up as best they could, but he hasn't woken up yet. He's restrained and under observation."

"Bobby, what happened to my brother?" Dean couldn't, wouldn't believe the conclusion he had come to.

"Sam...Sam did it to himself."

............................................................

Once Sam had the knife in him, he couldn't stop the cutting. As he split ever more skin and the blood seeped out, he needed more. The red of his blood became his lifeline. All of this was his fault. He deserved this pain. He needed it to ground him.

He never meant to cut as deep or as much as he did, but soon he could feel himself getting weaker, and he stopped, pressing paper towels to the cuts. He didn't want to leave and face what he had caused just yet, so he remained where he was. He toyed with his knife some more, and then that most awful of thoughts returned. Dean was going to Hell because of him. Dean had attempted suicide because of him. Sam had failed. He hadn't noticed how far over the edge Dean was. Hadn't realized Dean would think killing himself now would stop Sam from looking for a way out of the deal.

Sam pulled his jeans down to uncover his thighs. He contemplated the pale scars there for a long time before pressing the knife to the skin. Only applying slight pressure, he pulled the blade down and across. The blood welled up and the relief was immediate. He deserved this.

He cut several times on each thigh, stopping the bleeding on each cut before making a new one. Dying now would make Dean's sacrifice worthless. Despite these actions, he could feel how weak he was growing. He wiped the knife and flicked it shut, putting it back in his pocket. He pulled his jeans back up as he stood. 

Sam was unsteady on his feet as he unlocked the door. He was dizzy from blood loss and was still bleeding. He managed to take only a few steps before collapsing to the cold tile floor, not yet unconscious.

"Help," he called weakly, the everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update is coming soon, and it might be the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGERS: Mentions of self-harm, suicide (not a mention or an attempt. Completed)

A pulsing pain sent itself through Dean's chest. He had begged for the unconscious Sam to be put in the same roon as him, but now that he was there, Dean was almost regretting it. Seeing his brother like this was almost worse than seeing him dead by that bastard Jake's hands because this state was self-inflicted.

Slicing into yourself was painful. Dean hadn't done it since Sam had gone to Stanford. He threw himself into hunts more vigorously than usual, and if he happened to get hurt, he was pleased. But nothing was more satiafying back then than doing it to himself. That pain was very welcome. 

Sam seemed to have been a little too welcoming of it, though. The doctors acted optimistic, like his unconscious state would suddenly lift. But Dean could hear the lies in their pitying voices. And among those soft voices was one loud, angry voice that Dean did his very best to dispel. It didn't work well, though. The anger and disappointment of John Winchester could not be so easily gotten rid of.

Besides, Dean felt he deserved John's memory. He had told the dream-him that his father was an obsessed bastard, and so he was, but right now he was halfway comforting.

Tears ran down his cheeks as remembrances of, well, everything passed across his mind. Sure, he had screwed up massively before, but he had always been able to fix it. Sammy had always been okay, no matter the cost to Dean. But Dean knew he couldn't solve this.

Nobody but he, Sammy, and the beeping heart monitor were in the room when the heart monitor's beats, regular before, began to miss some beats and slow down. Dean cried out incoherently and pressed the call button an uncounted number of times. He vaguely heard a scream of in the distance as he struggled to get up and rush to his brother's side, and then everything went black.

.......................................................................................................................................................

He came to in a fuzzy haze. Bobby was nowhere to be seen. Dean turned his head. Sam wasn't there. He was better, surely. They had stabilized his heart and were replenishing his blood now. Bobby was waiting to see him and bring him in to see Dean.

When a somber-faced nurse walked in, Dean realized he was restrained. Probably so he wouldn't rush out to find Sam. He asked the nurse where Sam was. She replied, "I'm sorry. I'll go find your father." She turned and left without an explanation. Dean began to get anxious. Where was Sammy?

Bobby entered, accompanied by the somber-faced nurse. He wasn't wearing his cap. Dean askes, "Where is Sam? Where is my brother?"

"They did their best." Bobby's voice was shaking. "But Sam is gone. The blood loss killed him." Bobby sat in the chair next to Dean's bed.

"Ha-ha, very funny. Sammy, get in here!" Bobby stared at Dean and the look in his eyes convinced Dean he wasn't making a joke. Dean leveled a glare at the nurse, who grew pale. "Did he say anything?"

"He was unconscious until the end. It was peaceful, if that is any comfort to you." The nurse all but fled the room. 

Dean couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "Peaceful? He fucking killed himself, and they call that peaceful?" More than that, Sam was a hunter who died bloody. Neither his life nor his death could be called peaceful.

.......................................................................................................................................................

Three weeks later, after Sam's cremation, Dean had Bobby convinced he was doing well enough for a case. The hunt he chose was a exorcism, plain and simple. After taking out the demon, Dean went back to the motel room. This life was Hell. What this life gave him couldn't possibly be worse than what waited below. This thought pushed him over the edge. Without further ado, he placed the barrel of his gun in his mouth.

_Sorry, Sammy._

He squeezed the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. This story almost did it for you. The major character death tag wouldn't leave me alone until I did this. :-(


End file.
